


If Nightwing Killed Joker

by oclark1226



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst with a Happy Ending, Brotherly Bonding, Bruce Wayne is Batman, Damian Wayne is Robin, Dick Grayson Kills Joker (DCU), Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is Nightwing, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Joker: Last Laugh Issue 06, Panic Attacks, Soft Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake is Red Robin, Tim Drake is Robin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:54:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27599212
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oclark1226/pseuds/oclark1226
Summary: AU where, at the end of Joker: Last Laugh Issue #6, Nightwing kills the Joker, but Batman doesn't get there in time to revive him. Dick has to live with the consequences and he manages alright, until Damian and Jason find out. Some of the issue is directly quoted to give some background if you haven't read the series.
Relationships: Dick Grayson & Bruce Wayne, Tim Drake & Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Damian Wayne
Comments: 16
Kudos: 307





	1. Fresh Wounds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This first chapter is mostly a rewrite of Issue #6 itself with direct quotes so y'all have the stage set and everything. Things actually change from canon after Dick realizes he killed the Joker, and then it's all me, baby! The background info of the comic series is basically that the Joker is told he's dying, so he breaks out with a bunch of metahumans, "jokerizes" them, and tries to, idk, ruin everyone's day I guess. I had a really good time writing this one (over the course of like, one weekend, oops) and, dare I say, I'm proud of it. Please enjoy <3

“Robin is _dead?_ ” Dick’s heart stuttered in shock. He could remember all too well getting that same news years ago when the Joker had killed Jason Todd. With those memories came the same emotions: hurt, denial, anger, despair, grief, and a burning desire for revenge. Back then, he hadn’t had the chance, but here and now, there was a clear opportunity.

“How…” He swallowed hard. “How do we know?” He leaned back against Barbara’s desktop of monitors, fighting back both nausea and dizziness. Barbara and Dinah had just broken the news to him and they seemed to be handling it better than he was. 

“The Huntress. She arrived at Arkham after he did,” Barbara explained. Dick’s expression turned sour.

“What was he doing at Arkham alone? And since when is Huntress sanctioned?” Dick lashed out. He stood up, facing Barbara head on.

“I did what I had to, Nightwing.”

“Did you send him to Arkham, Babs?”

“It was his idea.”

Dick bit back an angry, bitter response. He had to remind himself that Barbara wasn’t the one who had hurt Tim. Joker was the only one responsible for this heartache. “Just like Jason,” Dick murmured, “We weren’t there for him. How long does this go on?”

“No end in sight,” Dinah answered grimly, “Now that we know Joker’s not terminal.”

“That could be changed, Dinah. I could _make_ him terminal,” Dick growled through his teeth. His fingernails dug into his palms as his muscles unconsciously tensed.

“No,” Barbara scolded, holding her hand palm out towards Dick, as if to stop him right then and there. “Then, the Joker wins.”

“He’s already won,” Dick argued. He threw his hands up in the air and resisted the urge to pull at his hair. “You were right Babs. He wins every time.”

Barbara stared Dick down. “No one hates him more than me. No one wants him _dead_ more than me. But this isn’t the way.”

Dick choked back a sob, covering his teary eyes with one hand. “I know, Babs. God help me, I know.”

…

Dick fought off Dinah when she tried to stop him, apologizing as he drove away on her bike. He knew exactly where to go: Gotham Cathedral. The “jokerized” villains let him pass through the strange shield surrounding the building, although not without taunting him. Their words didn’t even register; his focus was centered on the man of the hour. 

He found Joker dressed up in some sort of Elvis Presley get-up. After he announced Dick’s arrival, he continued in a mocking tone, “Jeez, Wing-Nut. You look like somebody died! Oh, that’s right!” Joker cackled, throwing his head back. “You lost another little brother recently, didn’t you?”

Dick saw red. He fought his way through the escaped convicts in between him and Joker, ignoring the shouts and taunts directed at him. Panting, he finally got close enough to Joker to give him a hard right hook in the jaw. Joker hit the ground hard and blood sprayed from his mouth. He came up holding a gun, but it only clicked when he pulled the trigger. 

“Aw, all outta buwwets,” Joker lamented, still sat on the ground. He stood up and threw the empty gun at Dick. “See, I was planning on having Batman kill me. Suicide by superhero, see?” Dick dodged the gun easily, waiting for the next opportunity to strike. 

“I’m dying anyway, right?” Joker chuckled with a sick grin. “So why not get a little blood on his cape in the process? But revenge once removed is sweeter. It’d really put a twist in his Kevlar if one of his litter did the dirty deed.” His voice dropped lower, only loud enough for Dick to hear. “So, you up for a little homicide, handsome? Are you mad enough? Big and bad enough?”

Dick snapped into action. A roundhouse kick to the jaw sent the Joker careening into a wall. There was a sickening crack as his skull met the solid wooden wall. Before he could move, Dick grabbed him by the collar and shoved him up against the wall with one hand. His other hand pulled back and fired punch after punch into the criminal’s face. 

He didn’t stop when blood started dripping from Joker’s mouth. He didn’t stop when one of his eyes started to swell shut. He didn’t stop when he felt bone give way under the force of his fist.

“Hurts so good,” Joker grinned, wiping blood from his face. “But I still don’t think you want it enough. Where’s that killer instinct, Buffalo Wing? Where’s the rage?” Joker ducked under Dick’s next punch and clasped his hands together, bringing them into Dick’s stomach. “Look, if you can’t manage this, I’m sure Papa Bat is on the way.”

Dick hit the ground on his back and gasped for air as Joker brought his fists in an arc above his head, adding, “He’ll help me along to the big adios. Imagine how mad he’ll be if I’ve whacked _two_ Boy Blunders on the same day!”

Dick was helpless to stop the first punch, but managed to wrap his hand around Joker’s fist and stop the next one. Getting back to his feet, he used his free hand to punch Joker right in the nose. “All the deaths! All the pain!” Dick snarled, hitting the Joker again and again. “When is enough _enough,_ Joker?” His next punch sent Joker into a pew, which burst and splintered from the impact. 

“Aw, jeez,” Joker muttered, head hanging down. “I hit Jason a lot harder than _that._ ” He looked up at Dick grinning, blood dripping from his split lip. “His name was Jason, right?” Dick pulled his fist back in seconds without even realizing it. The Joker muttered something about videoing just before Dick pinned him down and hit him with a whirlwind of punches. 

“He’s had enough, Nightwing.” Dick turned, holding the Joker’s barely conscious body in one hand, to see Tim standing there in the tattered remains of his Robin suit. 

“Robin?” Dick could barely breathe. Tim was alive? But how? 

“It’s me,” Tim confirmed. He tried to keep the fear out of his voice, but he kept his distance from Dick. He’d never seen his almost-brother this enraged before. He was nearly homicidal. 

“No,” Dick cried, shaking his head. “You’re dead. It’s a trick! An illusion! Another sick joke!” He turned back to the Joker, but before he could hit him again, Tim locked both his arms around Dick’s, holding his arm in place.

“It’s me, Nightwing!” Tim shouted desperately as Dick tried to throw him off. “Stop this!” Dick finally snapped out of it enough to relax his arm and stand up. The Joker was motionless on the floor. 

“Nightwing?” Tim called out cautiously. Dick walked away shaking his head. 

“What—What have I done?” Dick’s hands grasped at his hair like he wanted to pull it out. Tim rushed over to Joker’s body and checked for signs of life.

“Oh my God,” he breathed. “He’s dead.”

“I,” Dick whispered behind him, “I killed him. I just killed someone.” Dick started pulling at his hair with force and Tim had to restrain him once again. 

“Nightwing, stop! Please!” Tim cried. “Stop! We need to leave, cops are gonna be in here any minute!”

Dick let Tim pull his arms down to his sides and stood there, frozen. Tim had to take his hand and coax him into sneaking out through the back. The whole trip back to the Cave, Dick didn’t say a word. 

…

Tim and Dick were the only ones in the Cave when they returned. Dick let his weary feet carry him towards the showers, following the familiar path on autopilot. Tim’s eyes followed him as he disappeared from view. He took a moment to send a message to Bruce before he made his way to the showers as well. 

_Robin and Nightwing back at Cave. N may be compromised._

Dick froze the second he caught sight of himself in the full-length mirror. Bloodstains were splattered across his Nightwing suit. Frantically, he yanked it off, leaving him in just boxers. Even with the suit gone, Dick could see dried blood on his face and in his hair. His breaths came in shallow bursts as some unseen force gripped his chest.

_Murderer._

“I—I didn’t,” he whispered between breaths to his reflection. “I didn’t _mean_ to. I didn’t.” His hands scratched at his chest and throat, trying to find the source of the pressure, but there was nothing there. _I didn’t mean to, did I?_

Tim walked in to see Dick physically trembling and managed to catch him as his knees gave out. Almost instantly, Dick threw himself from Tim’s grasp and landed sprawled out on the floor, back against the mirror. 

“No, you can’t—don’t—don’t touch me,” Dick panted. One arm was held across his body like a shield while the other was ready to push off the ground for a quick getaway. His breathing was too fast and he was aware of that, but unable to get it under control. He just kept seeing Joker’s dead body in his mind’s eye, occasionally with Tim’s face or part of the Robin suit incorporated into the image.

“Dick,” Tim spoke softly, holding his hands up in surrender. “You’re okay. We’re at the Cave. You’re safe now.” He wasn’t sure what the right thing to say was. Obviously, Dick was struggling with the consequences of killing the Joker. Having also been trained and partly raised by the Batman, Tim understood how heavy tonight’s events were for Dick. He’d broke Bruce’s biggest rule. 

But Tim wasn’t Bruce; he didn’t know how Bruce was even going to take the news. Was Joker right? Would this break Batman? 

“I can’t—” Dick’s voice came out strained. He was hyperventilating and was going to pass out soon if Tim didn’t do something. He was trying to push himself further against the wall, like he was afraid of Tim. 

“Dick, you need to breathe. You’re going to pass out if you don’t calm down.” Tim felt like he was trying to talk to a toddler rather than his older brother, and it scared him. He didn’t seem to be getting anywhere with Dick like this, but he was terrified of making things worse by trying to touch him. Even though Dick usually craved physical affection, every part of his body language indicated otherwise.

Dick, eyes wild, nodded and tried to take a deep breath, only to clutch his chest in pain. He looked back to Tim with unconcealed panic written all over his face. “I—Tim, I can’t—”

“Yes, you can,” Tim interrupted brusquely. “I know you can, Dick. I know you can do this.” Tim bit his lip and decided to take a leap of faith. “Is it okay if I come over and touch you?” Dick barely hesitated before nodding rapidly. Tim dashed over and dropped to his knees so he could hug Dick, pulling him upright in the process. 

Dick sobbed openly into Tim’s chest, cries broken apart by gasps and hiccups. He wrapped his arms around his little brother tightly and Tim could feel just how badly Dick was shaking. It reminded him of calming down victims after they’d witnessed something traumatic and were waiting on emergency personnel to arrive to the crime scene. He’d never expected Dick to be one of those victims. 

And that was the strange thing. Tim didn’t see Dick any differently for having killed the Joker. Maybe it was because he’d been so in awe of both Dick and Jason as Robins that he understood the domino effect that had led to this. Dick hadn’t been there when Jason had been killed. Maybe if he had been, Joker wouldn’t have been here to kidnap Tim this time around. 

Of course, he also felt _loved_ by Dick more than ever before. He understood why Dick and Bruce argued about so much after Jason’s death. Dick had a very strong sense of family, regardless of blood, and he couldn’t sit by and let another little brother die by the same bastard’s hands. _Would Bruce have let Joker live if he really_ had _killed Tim?_

“I c—couldn’t lo—lose you, t—too,” Dick choked out as he cried. His shaking got worse as memories of Jason washed over him. Tim gave him a squeeze and tucked Dick’s head under his chin while his heart broke for the older vigilante. To lose Jason, experience Babs getting shot, and then be told that the next Robin was dead, too? And all at the hands of one man. It was no wonder Dick had gone off the edge. 

Tim held Dick for what could’ve been minutes or hours, until he’d cried the last of his tears and his breathing slowed to normal, although his breath hitched from time to time and he still trembled in Tim’s grasp. Slowly, Tim loosened his grip and Dick leaned back against the wall. His eyes were red and puffy, cheeks pale and wet with tears. 

“Do you think you can handle taking a shower?” Tim asked, leaving out the unspoken “by yourself” for the sake of Dick’s dignity. Well, the remains of it, anyway. Dick let out a shaky exhale, eyes focused on the ceiling, and nodded weakly. “Okay. I’m gonna shower too, so if you need anything, just shout,” Tim said gently. He helped Dick get to his feet and watched his unsteady footsteps to one of the shower stalls. Once the water started up, Tim let out a breath of relief and got ready for his shower. 

The boys’ showers were uneventful. When Tim finished up his, Dick was already dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt. His hands were braced on the sink countertop as he stared himself down in the mirror. Tim watched as he muttered something to himself and sighed, running a hand through his hair. He walked back over to the full-length mirror and sat down in an exhausted heap. 

Tim quickly got dressed and walked out to join Dick, who was struggling to keep his eyes open. Giving Tim a small smile, he got to his feet stiffly and the two of them went back out to the main area of the Batcave. 

Dick’s heart skipped a beat when he spotted Bruce at the main computer, cowl lowered. His hand subconsciously went to his chest as his breath caught in his throat. He wasn’t ready to talk to Bruce about what had happened. Of course, that exact moment was when Bruce chose to turn around. Dick held back a sudden well of tears and stifled a gasp. 

Bruce didn’t look angry; he looked incredibly sad. “You killed him.” It was a statement, not a question. Dick nodded all the same. Bruce approached him and Dick stood still, unsure of what to expect. Tim stood next to Dick, almost protectively, eyeing the two of them. When Bruce reached Dick, he did the last thing he or Tim expected: he gave Dick a hug. 

Bruce’s shoulders shook as he wrapped his arms around Dick. “I’m sorry, Dick. I’m so sorry you were put in that position,” he whispered softly as tears ran down his cheeks. “You shouldn’t have been so involved. It’s never been about you with him. He’s always been trying to get to me through you and I let him. And I’m sorry, son.”

Dick still hadn’t moved due to the initial shock, but as Bruce’s words reverberated in his mind, he let himself be enveloped in the embrace, wrapping his arms around his adoptive father and crying into his chest. He coughed and hiccupped and gasped in between heavy sobs, but Bruce only held him tighter. 

Bruce kept murmuring comforting words to him and a small hand, probably Tim’s, rubbed circles on his back. It took some time, but Dick eventually calmed down enough to back out of Bruce’s grasp and say something. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”

Bruce shushed him, pulling him close again. “Dick, I never wanted you, any of you, to have to deal with my demons for me. You took that on yourself because you care so damn much and I love that about you. Please, let the rest of us care about you for a little while.”

Dick nodded against Bruce’s chest and let himself be led back up to the manor, Bruce on one side and Tim on the other. Alfred had hot chocolate and tea prepared for them in the main living room. Dick fell more than sat down in the center of the couch while Tim left, reappearing moments later with a blanket, and Bruce placed a warm mug of hot chocolate into his hands. 

The exhaustion of not just the past night, but the past day or so, hit Dick like a train. It was all he could do to keep his eyes open and the mug upright. Bruce and Tim spoke quietly to each other, but Dick didn’t bother trying to listen. Tim got up again, but when he sat back down, _Aladdin_ was playing on the flat-screen TV in front of them. 

With Bruce and Tim settled in comfortably around him, Dick managed a few sips of his hot chocolate before his eyelids couldn’t fight any longer. Bruce took the mug from him as he started to drift off to the familiar sounds of the movie.


	2. Old Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is the section set some time in the future when Damian and Jason find out what actually happened that night. Lots of bonding between Dick and Jason because they heckin' deserve it. Please enjoy <3

Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian were gathered around the Batcomputer, nearly ready to start patrol, when Damian gasped. “Dami, what is it?” Dick asked, concern evident in his tone. Jason and Tim turned towards Damian, who was holding a sheet of papers on top of a manila envelope. 

“I’ve been going through Father’s older files on the criminals of Gotham,” Damian started cautiously, still staring at the pages. “I knew that Joker killed Todd and that he himself was later killed, but—” Damian cut himself off, looking straight at Dick. “I didn’t know you were the one to kill him.”

Dick stiffened, nearly choking on his own air in shock. Tim quickly took Dick’s hands and led him away, shooting an angry glance back at Damian. Jason seemed to still be processing what he’d just heard. He’d known about the Joker’s death, but his only concern at the time was that Bruce hadn’t been the one to do it. It had been a hollow victory at best. 

“Todd? What—” Damian was swiftly interrupted by Jason.

“Are you serious?” Jason’s voice held no emotion to it. He was compartmentalizing as he spoke, trying to figure out exactly how he felt about this new information. 

“It’s all right here,” Damian replied. He still didn’t understand what had gone wrong. Since he’d arrived in Gotham, his father had taught him that killing was wrong, but this had happened years ago. And it was the Joker, of all villains. He thought that, out of all of them, his father’s longest-standing nemesis would’ve been the most logical exception to the rule. Especially considering the background information that was included in the file. 

“The Joker had escaped prison with many metahumans at his disposal. One of them kidnapped Drake and Father believed him to be dead. Eaten by Killer Croc, to be exact. Richard beat Joker to death and then Drake was revealed to have been alive the whole time,” Damian explained stiffly. “I thought that would be considered justifiable, after all Joker had done.”

Jason’s eyes stared at something beyond Damian, unfocused. “He killed him. Dick killed the Joker,” he repeated to himself. “Holy shit, he—he—oh, fuck,” Jason stuttered. His legs threatened to give out on him and Damian quickly pushed him into a chair before he fell. 

“Todd? Not you, too,” Damian muttered, waving his hand in front of Jason’s face. Jason shook his head, then let it fall into his hands. He was speaking, but it came out muffled. Damian could only make out a few swears and Dick’s name. He hoped Dick was doing better than Jason.

…

Dick’s breathing stopped. His vision blurred as tears started to flow. Tim swiftly led him away to a more secluded section of the Cave. He was talking to Dick, but it felt like Dick was underwater. Everything was muffled and fuzzy. Even his own body started to feel disconnected from his mind. 

He was aware of his knees shaking so badly he stumbled, and Tim’s arms caught him, pulled him back up. The next time they gave out, Tim cushioned his impact with the ground and sat down with him. Dick turned into Tim’s side and shook, letting the tears fall freely. Tim’s arms around him kept him grounded and his familiar voice comforted him, even if he wasn’t sure what was being said. 

Dick thought about that night every day of his life. He could never block it out. He still had that voice in his head, nagging at him, calling him _murderer, traitor, failure._ He knew Damian’s upbringing, knew that he still didn’t understand the reasoning behind some rules and decisions. He hadn’t been ready for that bombshell to come from anyone, let alone his youngest brother. 

The grip around his chest got tighter and Dick coughed against Tim’s side, struggling to take in a decent breath. “Dick,” Tim’s voice finally made it through his mental fog. “I need you to breathe. You have to calm down and breathe, okay? Breathe with me.” Tim took Dick’s hand and placed it on his own chest so Dick could feel it moving in and out. 

Dick brought his head up so his forehead pressed against Tim’s shoulder. He tried to follow Tim’s breathing, but it _hurt._ His free hand gripped a handful of Tim’s suit in desperation. He was drowning all over again and he didn’t know how to save himself. Tim was trying to tell him something but all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears. 

“I’m s—sorry,” Dick wheezed out between breaths. “So sorr—rry. Didn’t mean t—to—fuck.” His breaths were getting shorter, not longer. The lightheadedness he’d been trying to ignore made itself even more present and Dick clutched Tim tightly as he blissfully lost consciousness.

…

“Damian! Give me a hand!”

Damian looked up from Jason to see Tim struggling to drag their unconscious brother to the medbay. He gave Jason a quick glance only to see him just as catatonic as before, then threw himself under Dick’s free side, taking some of the weight from Tim. They didn’t say anything outside of directing the other on where to go. Once Dick, still in his Nightwing get-up, was safely deposited on one of the cots in the room, Tim glared at Damian.

“Do you have _any_ idea what you just did to him?” Tim hissed. He and Damian were getting along far better than they initially did, but this had pushed Tim beyond the edge. “Do you know how long it took for him to move on from that? How hard it was for him? He’s not _you._ He doesn’t kill.”

Damian was at a loss for words. He’d known about their rule, of course, but again, the Joker? He wasn’t just another criminal; his crimes had personally targeted their family for years. Dick should have been happy to see him six feet under. They all should have. So why was this such a touchy subject?

“He doesn’t know any better,” Jason argued softly from the doorway. His eyes were red and he leaned against the doorway like he wasn’t strong enough to stand on his own. He walked in, dragging his feet, and sat down on Dick’s cot. He checked his pulse with a frown and a sigh. “Demon brat, you know the rule about killing. But you’re right. If anyone deserved to die,” Jason said, face darkening. “It was him.”

Tim opened his mouth to argue, but Jason held up a hand. “Replacement, don’t. Just… someone still needs to go out on patrol. And I’d feel better if it wasn’t just one of you.” He gave each of them a pointed look. “Can I trust you two to get along long enough to survive the night?”

Damian nodded first, then Tim sighed and nodded as well. Jason rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Good. I’ll stay here with Dick. He’ll need someone here when he wakes up. And I…” He trailed off, staring at his lap. “I don’t think I’ll much good out there tonight.”

Tim reluctantly agreed to Jason’s terms, but threatened to come back early if nothing world-ending was going on. Damian secretly agreed; he was much more concerned about his brother than the citizens of Gotham at the moment. 

…

Bruce’s voice reached Tim’s ears and he realized Oracle must have patched him into their frequency. _Did she hear what happened? Does B know?_ “Robin, Red, where’s Nightwing and Hood?” Bruce asked in a monotone voice. Someone outside of their family would’ve missed it, but there was an undertone of concern underlying his business-like tone. 

“There was… a situation,” Tim answered, fighting the urge to stare down Damian. “Neither of them is fit to go out tonight, so it’s just us.” He paused his pacing on the rooftop he and Damian were stopped on. There had been rumors of an impending gang attack going on sometime soon, so it was mostly a stakeout and reconnaissance kind of night unless that actually broke out.

“Is that a problem?” Damian huffed to Bruce. He’d already mentioned once to Bruce that he felt the four of them patrolling together was overkill, but while Bruce was out of the country, he wanted all hands on deck. 

“I want an explanation. Tonight.” And with that, Bruce clicked off the line, making it clear that the conversation was over. 

Tim sighed. _That_ wasn’t going to be pleasant. Before he or Damian could make any further comments, a commotion came from the alley below them. Looked like that gang attack was, in fact, happening tonight. Without a word, the two of them jumped down and snapped into action. This was gonna be a long night.

…

Jason hadn’t let go of Dick’s hand after checking his pulse. He found himself rubbing slow circles into the back of his brother’s hand. He wasn’t sure who it was meant to comfort. Jason was definitely feeling more stable than he had been earlier, at least. His nerves had recovered and his hands no longer shook. But his heart raced every time he let himself picture the clown bastard and that damned crowbar.

He still couldn’t imagine Dick—high-flying, always-smiling, bright and happy Dick—reaching such a breaking point. Jason was well aware of how fragile his own mental state was; it was bound to be a little screwy after being tortured, killed, and brought back to life with a burning need for vengeance. But Dick? It didn’t match up. 

Jason tried to put himself in that position. If, in some alternate universe, he had been the first Robin and Dick had been the second. If Dick had died in that warehouse and Jason had been the one to live on long enough to see a new Robin, a _kid,_ take on the mantle, only to seemingly die at Joker’s hands. Jason could easily picture himself beating him to death as Dick had, but that’s because Jason was _Jason._

As he continued mulling over the hypothetical scenario, Dick stirred next to him. Jason shifted his position on the cot so he faced Dick more comfortably and gave his brother’s hand a reassuring squeeze. Dick squinted against the light as he blinked his eyes open with a low groan. 

“Y’get the plate on the bus that hit me?” Dick grunted, slowly pushing himself upright. He pressed one hand against his temple and Jason offered him a water bottle. Dick nodded his thanks and took it, drinking almost half of it before pressing it against his temple with a sigh of relief. One hand rubbed his chest and he coughed into his arm, trying to get rid of the stifling feeling that still hung around in his airways. 

“That bad, huh?” Jason tried to keep his tone light and teasing, but he watched Dick start to remember how he’d ended up here in the medbay. The color drained from his face and Jason scrambled to prevent another breakdown. “Hey, hey, hey, Dickiebird. You’re all good now. Just me and you.” Jason laid a hand on Dick’s knee and gave it a squeeze to accentuate his statement. 

Dick stared blankly for another breath before his face fell in some mix of shame and exhaustion. “Shit, Dami—”

“Don’t worry about the brat,” Jason interrupted. “He and Timmy are out on patrol. They’re fine. I’m more worried about you, Big Bird.” He hadn’t meant for that last part to have been said out loud, but he rolled with it. “You had some sorta episode and passed out. You can talk to them and let them know you’re okay after _I_ make sure you’re okay.”

Dick didn’t argue, just set the water bottle down and sighed. “So. You and Damian… found out.” He kept his gaze focused on his lap, unwilling to look at Jason. 

“Yeah. That was, uh, kinda outta nowhere,” Jason said, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. _How the hell am I supposed to talk about this with him?_ “So, you feeling okay?”

Dick shook his head, then winced. “Dizzy. And my head’s pounding.” He sighed, “But I have a feeling that’s not what you meant.” They sat in silence for a minute, neither one ready to have this conversation. 

“I don’t blame you,” Jason blurted out. “I mean, I know I had my own grudge thing going on with him and B, but he’d just—he’d taken so much from this family. It’s—it’s bigger than me, or Barbara, or Tim, or even Bruce. He wasn’t like anyone else.” He bit his lip, worried he’d said too much too soon. 

“That’s what I keep telling myself,” Dick murmured softly, almost too quietly for Jason to hear. When Jason dared to glance up at him, he saw Dick looked nostalgic in a way, perhaps remembering who he’d been before that night. “I can’t say I completely blame myself anymore. Bruce didn’t even blame me,” Dick chuckled without humor. 

“Really?” Jason asked incredulously. “Man, maybe I should’ve beat you to the punch,” he laughed hollowly. Dick cracked a smile at that. 

“He said I shouldn’t have been put in that position. It was always Batman and the Joker; the rest of us just got caught up in between.” Dick swallowed hard and took another swig from the water bottle. “I guess I just… got sick of us getting hurt for that. Getting caught in the crossfire and all that. It—it wasn’t fair. And I couldn’t,” Dick paused, tearing up. “I couldn’t lose another Robin to him, Jay,” he whispered. 

Jason internally panicked. This was because of _him._ Well, it wasn’t directly his fault, but his death had been part of the catalyst in the process that turned Dick from innocent to guilty. His death had made such an impact to Dick that he crossed the forbidden line when Tim seemed to have met the same fate. _Would Bruce have crossed that line if Tim had actually died?_

Dick’s cheeks were damp with tears and he sniffled quietly while Jason struggled to come up with an appropriate response. “Th—thank you.”

“What?” Dick questioned, wiping his eyes.

“You… you did what Bruce couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. Even if it wasn’t for me, thank you,” Jason searched out Dick’s hand again and began rubbing circles into it again. 

The sound of the Batcave’s exterior entrance opening interrupted the moment of silence between them. Dick wiped at his eyes and took another drink of water while Jason stood up cautiously. He couldn’t deny the big brother instincts that were kicking in and urging him to shield Dick, even though he was technically younger. 

Tim and Damian entered the medbay with Alfred in tow. Damian was limping and Tim’s shoulder appeared to be dislocated. Alfred forced Damian to sit before heading back to Tim to assess the damage to his arm. 

“What happened?” Dick’s voice wavered just enough to make Damian look up in concern. He held a hand up to Dick as if reminding him to stay in place.

“Tt. Drake and I ended a conflict between several gangs. I will admit, he was,” Damian stated plainly, “adequate, for the task.” He scooted back on the cot so both his legs were up on the cot and began carefully taking off his boots. 

Tim scoffed, “Yeah, you’re welcome.” He grunted in pain as Alfred shifted his shoulder around. 

“Need a hand?” Jason walked over to Alfred’s side and waited for instructions. Alfred had him stabilize Tim’s upper body while he forced his arm back into place. Tim bit his lip to keep from crying out, but couldn’t keep from hissing in pain. He gratefully accepted the sling Alfred provided him and Jason gave his good shoulder a squeeze before joining Alfred at Damian’s cot. 

With his boots off, Jason could already see the swelling around Damian’s ankle and foot. Alfred chided him, “Master Damian, this will take more than a couple days to heal.” He proceeded to peel off his socks, examining the bruising along the side of his foot. “Master Jason, could you find some ice?”

Jason nodded and left. Alfred continued to chit chat with the two Robins while Dick watched on with concern. However, if he tried to get up, either Damian or Tim would stop him in his tracks. “Seriously, Dick,” Tim said with a tired smile, “We’ll be okay. Don’t stress it.”

Jason returned with an ice pack and tape to hold it in place against Damian’s ankle. He assisted Alfred with getting it in place while Damian muttered complaints to himself. Within a few more minutes, both Robins were changed and ready to head up to the manor to rest. 

Damian felt Dick’s stare on him as he got down from the cot, making sure not to put too much weight on his injured ankle. He gave Jason a meaningful look as he made his way over to Dick’s cot and he heard Jason cheerily announcing, “Alright Timbo, you feeling some ice cream? Cause I’m feeling ice cream tonight,” before Dick and Damian were left alone in the room.

Damian had only just opened his mouth when Dick interrupted him. “Dames, you don’t have to apologize. I know you didn’t mean for anything like this to happen.” He gave Damian the best smile he could manage, but Damian was hard to fool. 

“Richard, I caused you to _pass out._ That is unacceptable, both as a teammate, and,” Damian spoke softly, looking away, “as a brother. I am sorry and you can’t stop me from feeling that way. I also wanted you to know that I am…” Damian trailed off, unsure. “I am proud of you for not falling into the ways of our enemies. Having that power over another human being can be… addictive.” He avoided Dick’s gaze, mouth set in a hard line. 

Dick made a small, wounded noise, and Damian’s head shot up in alarm. Dick had tears running down his face, but he was smiling. He didn’t say a word, just pulled Damian up onto the cot with him as carefully as he could. Damian didn’t fight it; he allowed himself to be held and hugged for as long as Dick needed. He rested his head against Dick’s chest and listened to his heartbeat.

Damian could’ve stayed like that for hours, but Dick shifted, forcing him to look up at the older man. “Hey kiddo, whaddya say we join everybody upstairs. Family sleepover? You can help me pick out a movie,” Dick whispered with a smile. His voice—his entire being—still felt fragile, but the one thing he felt certain about was that he wanted to be around his brothers. 

Damian scoffed, “Richard, every night in the manor together is a sleepover.” Regardless, he and Dick left the medbay and headed upstairs. Dick insisted he could carry Damian, but he refused, partly due to his pride, and partly because Dick still coughed and rubbed at his chest like he couldn’t breathe on occasion. Damian tried to ignore the pinpricks of guilt that stabbed his heart with each labored breath he heard. 

When they reached the main living room, they found Jason and Tim already in a nest of blankets in front of their flat-screen TV. They had everything set up for a movie, but nothing was playing yet; they were too busy eating ice cream out of the tubs. Dick laughed at the sight and something in his chest lifted, making it just a little bit easier to breathe. Damian led him over and they quickly made themselves comfortable.

With Dick clearly still exhausted, and Damian and Tim’s injuries, Jason dashed to and from the kitchen, providing snacks and drinks for everyone. Damian kept his word and helped Dick pick out _Brave_ to watch, followed by _Tangled._ Not even ten minutes into the second movie, Dick was fast asleep and the others weren’t too far behind. 

Alfred, on a call with Bruce while he began his travels back home, walked out of the kitchen to see all four boys asleep as the end credits rolled. Closest to him was Damian, who was curled into Dick’s side and using his arm as a pillow. Dick was on his back with his face inches from Jason’s back and his free arm laying across his stomach. Jason was on his side facing away from Dick with one arm around Tim, who was asleep on his stomach, face just barely peeking out from the mass of blankets around him. 

“Alfred? What is it?”

“Excuse me for a moment, Master Bruce. I believe you’ll need to see this to believe it. I just need to get my camera…”


End file.
